Hush Now (I'm Here to Dry Your Tears)
by TutorGirlml
Summary: post 5x14 one shot; Emma takes several quiet moments to tend to her pirate. Whatever else may be going on, they need this time together.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey all! This one is born from my response to last Sunday's episode (5x14) and the preview for this week's. Though I'm enjoying this arc quite a lot so far, and there were things I loved about "Devil's Due", there were also a few things that have been troubling me since. Also, I know we're probably not going to see this much time spend on healing and patching Killian up in the show; there just isn't enough time. But that's what fan fiction is for, right? Anyway, this is what I've been mulling over before the really intense episode that I'm sure 5x15 will be. Hope you enjoy – I've even got the idea for an epilogue if people seem to enjoy this one! So, needless to say, I'd love to hear what you think!_

 _Of course I don't own them, only borrowing our beloved princess and pirate! ;)_

"Hush Now (I'm Here to Dry Your Tears)"

It physically hurt Emma to look at the mass of injuries still littering her pirate's body and to not yet have had the time to heal and tend him as she desperately wanted. The scorched, ripped leather and black denim had not managed to hide from her guilt-stricken gaze the welts and bruising, the burns and dried blood from gashes that felt as if they had been carved into her flesh as well. Upon their return, the rescue band of heroes – her family, _his_ family too, she hoped he realized – had gathered around, glad to see the Captain alive and with them once more, anxious that he know just how much he had been missed. Henry especially had been ecstatic, calling out the pirate's name and nearly flinging his arms in an exuberant hug around the man he had come to look up to so fondly, until he had gotten a real glimpse of the shape Killian was in.

Emma had done her best to fill everyone in quickly on how they had gotten Killian back, and how they needed to plan their escape as quickly as possible, with grudging help from Gold in places where her knowledge faltered, or with a pained, apologetic look to Killian at the mention of a friend lost along the way. Still, she was antsy, wanting nothing more than to slip away with him and find a quiet moment to assure herself he would be alright. In the hope of reaching that point as soon as possible, she had turned to Regina to attempt the heart-split immediately. When it couldn't be done, Emma had struggled not to fall apart right there in front of everyone on the floor of what was meant to be a house of dreams, but was rapidly becoming the home for a waking nightmare. Her love was finally at her side once more; there had to be a way to bring him home again. She had all she could do for several tense moments not to order everyone else to leave. If she could just get a moment alone with Killian to heal his hurts, to hold him, and be able to make _something_ right.

At that moment, Emma clutched his hook, holding it instead of his hand so as not to accidentally cause him any more pain. It was amazing the man was still standing on his own strength at all, after what his body had been put through. The longer their group stood in the entryway together, the more she could feel him leaning against her, though no one else seemed to notice.

Finally, her father made the practical statement that there was nothing more to be done until morning; they all might as well get some rest and start fresh on another plan to get home with the new day. Gold agreed tersely, and with a snap of his fingers, vanished to the Underbrooke version of his shop for the night. Regina and Robin headed toward the stairs to the second floor not long after; Robin with a companionable nod to his friend – clearly as reluctant as Emma to accidentally touch some injury of Killian's that he couldn't see – and Regina with a wink and a sarcastic, "See that you get yourself cleaned up, Pirate. You look terrible."

Killian merely arched a sardonic brow, wincing even at that slight a movement, and smirked at her veiled expression of happiness to see him. "Certainly, Your Majesty," he retorted, "I knew you would expect no less."

Regina snorted ungracefully, losing her royal poise for a moment at his response; then the Queen and the Archer were gone, climbing the stairs to claim one of the several upstairs bedrooms.

Snow and Charming followed them; however, not before Snow pulled her daughter into a brief, tight embrace, brushing Emma's hair off her forehead as she pulled away with an encouraging whisper, "Have faith, Emma. We'll find another way." She laid a gentle hand on Killian's arm as well, looking up into his face until he met her eyes. "We're glad you're back, Killian," she offered sincerely, blinking back a few tears.

The princess's use of his first name instead of his moniker and the affectionate touch caused Killian's eyes to widen in surprise before a touched smile quirked his lips. His response was grateful, even through the obvious waver of emotion in his voice, "Thank you, Milady."

That left only Henry shuffling his feet awkwardly and finally managing to glance up at Killian with glassy eyes before choking raspy words out. "I – I missed you, Killian… You're part of the family now. I mean…you're good for my mom, but… _I_ want you in our family too. You're….you're like a second dad to me," he finally sputtered, dipping his head to avoid both of their eyes and roughly swiping a hand across his cheeks to catch tears he didn't want seen as he blurted out the last few words.

By then, tears were running unchecked down Emma's face as well, especially upon catching the stunned, breathlessly hopeful look on Killian's face when Henry's confession sunk in. He swallowed hard; Emma could see his throat work, and reached a hand out toward her son, let it drop, then tried again. "Henry…lad…I don't know what to say. You honor me more than I deserve…"

Emma and Henry both moved to assure him otherwise at that, but he motioned them to wait. "I never thought I would see you, or your lovely mother, or the rest of you lot again, but I am certainly grateful to be proven wrong. I hope I will have the honor of being part of your family from now on."

Though he had to move much more carefully than he had originally planned, Henry seemed unable to resist hugging the pirate. Killian drew in a tight breath as Henry's arms encircled his ribs even lightly, but he wrapped his arms around the young man as well for several long, healing minutes, seeming to need the contact nearly as much as his almost-stepson.

When they parted, Henry gave them both a crooked, wobbly grin. The light flickering in his eyes again made him look much more like himself when he hugged his mom as well and darted up the steps with a pleased and optimistic, "See you guys in the morning."

Finally alone, Emma let out a breath and simply stared at Killian, trying to drink him in and assure himself he was really there. Carefully, she twined her fingers with his and gave him a gentle, secretive smile before leading him toward the master bedroom/bathroom suite, the only one on the house's ground floor.

Once they were inside, with the door closed firmly behind them, Emma wasted no time moving toward the bath, asking him to follow with her eyes. As he did so, she guided him to the closed toilet seat, easing him to sit, and then gently beginning to remove his singed, ruined jacket and unbuttoning his black shirt, in order to clean and examine his wounds. She could poof it all away in an instant with her magic, but something made her feel she needed to care for him step by tender step with her own two hands. Magic had been used to wound and scar him over and over again – hers included – and the ending to that era began now.

Weary, pained blue eyes stared up at her from under long, dark lashes, infinite sadness but also a love and trust – despite it all – within their depths. Emma found she had to pause in her ministrations to simply cup her hands around his face and stare into that perfect countenance, marveling how those twin cyan oceans could still be so bight, could stop her breath like the very first time, their color stronger than anything else here in this grey, lost world. "Emma?" he murmured, voice husky and soft, fragile as he questioned her. "What is it, Love?"

Emma swallowed hard, the air between them fairly pulsing with emotion: joy, relief, unspoken hidden hurt. "It's just…" she paused, wetting her lips and trying to gather too many scattered thoughts at once, brushing her hands back to stroke through his hair soothingly. "I was starting to think we wouldn't find you; that you might be too far gone when we did. I couldn't bear never seeing your eyes and the way you look at me again. I am so sorry it took us this long to reach you…so sorry you were hurt so my mistakes could be fixed. Killian…I just hope you can forgive me." Her lower lip trembled, her last words barely above a whisper. "You have every right to hate me, to punish me for what I did to you – making you the Dark One so I wouldn't lose you – but I'm hoping you might still find it in yourself to love me…"

Levering himself to sit up straighter and look her in the eyes steadily, Killian gritted his teeth against the pain once more and spoke with determined fervor, making sure Emma couldn't doubt him. "Emma love, you need never fear I will stop loving you. The bitterness, the sting of betrayal, and the loss of control took me over for a time. I let the Darkness have its way once you gave it back to me, and in my anger, I did want to hurt you. I won't deny that we may both now have new scars to deal with, but that does not mean I no longer want to be with you. You, Swan, are my home, my family, all that my heart desires."

She nodded, too overcome to respond and blinking rapidly against tears. Instead, she held his gaze, bringing light fingers back to his still-open shirt and easing it off his shoulders. As it came free of the leather brace on his left arm, Emma released the fabric and it fell away, baring his torso to her fully for the first time. She now saw the ancient straps that held the brace to his arm, and she undid the buckle and removed his brace and its holster as well. Killian tensed, knowing that even years after the brutal amputation, his stump is still not a pretty sight, and not wanting to see her repulsed, not sure he could stand it now. But far from what he feared, Emma bent over his arm, pressing the tenderest of kisses to the scar where Cook had sewn him closed so many years ago. An electric frisson of pleasure ran through him as she looked back up at him and their eyes locked breathlessly.

Now that her pirate was naked to the waist in front of her, something Emma had always known would take her breath away, she take in all that lean, tanned muscle and the generous swath of appealingly dark hair across his chest. However, the gasp that escaped her was one of shocked, painful empathy instead of attraction. The extent of the torture he had endured was even more obvious, and she ached to touch everywhere at once, every single mark upon his skin. "Oh, Killian…" she exhaled, at a loss, her eyes welling and fingertips hovering over the longer scrapes and gouges without making contact.

Killian tried a mocking half-smile, "Most of them look worse than they were," he bluffed, but it fell flat, both of them knowing those words were untrue and the anguish he had suffered seeping back into both of their minds. He leaned forward, reaching to run his fingers over a strand of her golden hair, but instead grunted around an exclamation of pain and folded forward, holding his ribs.

Bending toward him, Emma asked tentatively, "Killian, may I try to heal them?" Even now, when he clearly needed immediate relief, she hesitated to ever again use her magic on him without his consent.

Nodding shortly, he puffed out, "Aye, Swan, with the ribs at least. Give it a go."

Concentrating intensely, Emma felt the warmth spreading through her palms, a glowing light emanating outward until she touched them to Killian's side and the glow seemed to absorb into his skin. A few tense seconds passed, and then he gazed up at her in awe, his breathing much less labored, hand leaving his ribs to pull her in where their foreheads could rest against each other and smiled, "Feels better already, Lass. As always, you are a marvel."

Emma blew out a quick breath of relief and pecked a light kiss to the tip of his nose before straightening, then leaned around him to reach a washcloth beside the sink, run the water until it was pleasantly warm, then turned back to him, wet cloth in hand and gently began to dab tenderly at his face, neck, and shoulders, removing soot and dried blood before she disinfected his wounds.

"Lass, there's no need for you to…" he began, voice low.

But Emma interrupted him, shaking her head and putting her fingers to his lips. "Please, Killian?" she begged in a whisper, eyes searching his. "I know I don't have to, but you've taken care of me so many times. I _want_ to take care of you. Let me?"

He nodded his assent, and as she continued her strokes with the wet cloth across his maimed body. She tried to be infinitely gentle, careful, to only give comfort, and to ignore the way so much red still ran into the basin each time she rinsed the cloth. Gradually, Emma felt the tension in Killian's shoulders lessen. He relaxed into her touch, and his head fell forward slightly as he let his guard down. She couldn't imagine when he had last slept, last felt free of pain…last felt safe.

As she reached his abdomen, Emma's breath stalled, her fingers trembling as she cleared away the blood and grime to ghost across the jagged wound where she had driven Excalibur home, sending him into this hellish torment. Sinking to her knees before him, she paused in her care to choke out brokenly, "How can you forgive me, Killian? I doomed you to the Darkness, then I – I killed you to save everyone else." Resting her forehead on his knee, her shoulders shook as she quietly sobbed; the despair, self-recrimination, worry for him, and stress of leading them all into the Underworld – all the things she had been pushing back for so long – flowed through her once again as she almost unconsciously stroked the older scar.

Killian did begin sifting his hand through the soft, silky curtain of her hair then, languidly soothing himself with the motion even as he tried to calm his love, murmuring hushed reassurances, affirmation of their bond, no matter what might still rise between. "How could I not forgive you, Love?" he asked sincerely, when she finally looked up to meet his eyes once more. "After all you have done for me, after the second chance you gave me. Aye, we've hurt each other, but we've healed each other too. As I told you in Storybrooke, even if I did not understand the full meaning then, _all_ can be forgiven when someone loves you. And I do love you, Emma Swan. Nothing will take that away."

She gaped at him, eyes lit almost dazedly with her stunned acceptance of his words. "I love you, Killian. More than I've been able to love anyone before," she avows seriously, voice trembling but certain, eyelashes still glittering from her tears. "I just wish I could take _this"_ she gestures almost angrily at the wound she had made, "away. That I'd never…" the wistful words had barely left her mouth when the scar disappeared right before their eyes; as if the horrible stab had never been made, the mark of it on Killian's flesh vanished completely.

Floundering in confusion, Emma babbled, "Wh-what was that? I didn't mean…"

But Killian stilled her fluttering hands, now the one to surround her face sweetly with hand and hook. "I know that, Lass. It was not your intention to use more magic. I understand. You only wanted the hurt to cease, that awful memory gone. And it has…it's alright now."

She chuckled weakly, melting easily into his lightest touch. "Why is it that even when I'm trying to put you back together, you're the one comforting me?"

He smiled a lopsided grin back at her, managing almost nonchalance in return. "What can I say? We make quite the team."

Rising, Emma returned to her task. Having washed his skin clean, she used peroxide next, hissing sympathetically along with his rather colorful exclamations at the sting of the disinfecting liquid doing its work. Then, she took care to spread Neosporin onto any still-open cuts across his torso, neck, shoulders, and arms. Before she finally called the whole operation complete, Emma somehow managed to find a large gauze bandage in the cabinet over the sink and place it gently over the Excalibur wound where his neck and shoulder met. Upon his death, it had finally stopped bleeding, but his run-in with Cerberus appeared to have jaggedly re-opened the gash once more. Bowing her head, Emma pressed her lips to that injury as well, lingering with her eyes closed, praying nothing so deadly would ever harm him again. Killian said nothing, simply allowed her the contact and cradled the back of her head in his hand.

When she pulled away just slightly, their eyes held each other as their breaths mingled warmly together, and Killian could feel every exhalation from Emma's lips in tingling little puffs upon his own. She pulled him to his feet; their stare only breaking when he stumbled a bit with exhaustion before he could steady himself.

At his side in an instant, Emma wrapped an arm around his middle, supporting part of his weight, and though he wanted to tell her such fussing was not necessary, he had his bearing now, Killian didn't argue, merely let her take each shaky, slow step along with him toward the king-size bed in the echo of what was meant to be their bedroom. When she didn't let go until he sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress and immediately crouched to help him remove his boots and ruined socks, he merely sunk into the softness of the bed, allowing her care for him and letting himself relax, letting the harshest vestiges of nightmare and exhaustion begin to slough away at last.

"Okay Pirate," Emma said, clearly trying to inject a playful note into her voice, "not trying to get a free show here, but you can't sleep in those pants. They're filthy, and they can't be very comfortable."

He rose to the bait just as she had known he would, giving her a rakish smirk and raised eyebrow as he teased, "Ah, Love, if you want to undress me, you know you need only ask."

Rolling her eyes, Emma merely shook her head in response, knowing her pirate wasn't up to delivering on the heat he still managed to transmit in his words. Tentatively, she reached forward to unbutton his jeans before easing down the zip, and then swatted at his hip lightly when she sensed another innuendo about to slip off his silver tongue. "Lift," she commanded in a firm, quiet voice, soft and almost husky.

Bracing his weight on hand and hook, Killian raised his hips enough for her to ease the charred, dirt and mud-caked material past his waist and down his legs. It did feel good to have the heavy, constricting material gone, though he hated his helplessness, even with Emma. Trying not to look too long at the rest of his form she had bared, Emma stood and moved to the chest of drawers across the darkened room and pulled out a pair of soft-looking, checkered pants. It almost stole Killian's breath for a moment, emotion rising up his throat in an attempt to choke him as she returned to his side and helped him slip on what she called pajama pants. He couldn't help thinking that she must have stocked this room with clothing she had thought he might like, things she had wanted to show him, even while she was the Dark One. Drawing in a ragged breath, his eyes burned at what had been lost, the simple joy and the time together that had been stolen from them once again.

Emma's eyes had clearly taken him in frankly; those beguiling green pools were blown wide with both curiosity and hunger. He watched as her chest rose and fell heavily and the tip of her pink tongue traced her lips unconsciously, in a way Killian felt sure she didn't even realize she had done. Her eyes flicked back up to his quickly, as if she had forced herself to refocus before desire raged out of hand. It made his heart race that she still had such a powerful reaction to him after all that had happened and the pitiful sight he must make, swaying with weariness, battered and bruised.

She stood once more, and with her hands on his shoulders, gently guided him to lie down, her urging firm, even if he had tried to protest. She ran a rueful finger over the dark circles beneath his eyes, next cupping his cheek with her hand and letting her thumb stroke the long-faded scar high on his cheekbone which had always captured her attention. "You will be able to rest, won't you?" she questioned worriedly, her brow crinkled in an adorable expression of concern. "I think right now that will do you as much good as anything."

He nodded, but caught her wrist and pulled her back as she began to move away. "Stay with me?" he asked, hating to admit weakness, but knowing it was true as soon as the words were spoken. He did not want to let her out of his sight, dreaded what twisted images his mind would conjure once his eyes closed in the dark. If she were with him, perhaps her presence would be enough to keep the nightmares and ghosts at bay.

Emma didn't even hesitate; she merely nodded her acquiescence, separating from him only long enough to shrug off that red leather jacket he loved, pull her sweater off over her head and shimmy out of her own jeans. She stood before him for only a few raw seconds in a flimsy camisole and panties, a quite fetching blush turning all her exposed skin a rosy pink. Finally, she raised her eyes to his when he breathed out, "Stunning, Lass. You are simply stunning." Then she rounded the other side of the bed, slipped under the covers, and to his everlasting delight, curled up tightly against his side.

They were quiet then, merely relishing the comfort and peace to be found in holding each other close, breathing the same air, and knowing that at least in whatever challenge came next they would be together.

Emma felt her eyes growing more heavy-lidded, her head resting on Killian's shoulder when his blunted arm began to rub up and down her back. She felt him expel a deep breath before turning to look sidelong at her. "I'm glad that Regina couldn't remove your heart and split it," he finally admitted, his voice low in the dusky stillness of the room.

Emma immediately wanted to question him, react, argue, but she bit her tongue and waited, knowing he had more to say.

He paused, almost as if he could sense she wanted to stop him, to cut off the horrible possibility of leaving him behind when they returned to the living version of Storybrooke. When she didn't speak, he continued, giving her a handsome, if half-broken, smile. "As much as I would wish nothing more than to return with you and enjoy the future we dreamed of, along with your boy and the rest of your family, Swan your heart is too precious to risk. Perhaps this is as it should be. A third chance at life, after already being granted more than 200 years, simply may not be in the cards for me. My existence here might well be all that I deserve." He lapsed into silence, tracing the soft, feminine curves of Emma's skin, not sure of her reaction, but knowing they could no longer keep their motives or their concerns from each other – it was part of how things had fallen apart in the midst of the Darkness.

A long time passed before his love responded, her emerald gaze vivid and beguiling, mussed golden hair circling her head like a halo as she raised her face to peer at him and managing to look deep into his soul. "You need to know that _you are_ a good man, Killian. You're still a hero. I'm not the only one who loves you, who would m- miss you if you can't come home with us. I know we'll find another way, because this fate _is not_ what you deserve. But…" she paused, resting her hand over his beating heart, her eyes boring into him, "I won't force what I want on you again. I will never give up on you, but if you feel it's time to move on…if we find that path, and it's wh-what you want…then it will be your choice. I promise not to take that from you or try to make it for you. I was wrong before…no matter how desperately I just wanted to save you."

Killian pulled her even closer after her vow; until her body was half-covering his where they lay tangled up with each other. Her words had filled the last sharp crevice in his psyche, and he loved her for understanding what she seemingly couldn't before. For acknowledging that both of their needs and desires had to matter equally if their love was to endure. "Hush now, Swan," he murmured as she tucked her face into his neck and he buried his nose in her hair. Somehow even in this place of brimstone and fire, the strands still smelt faintly of cinnamon and apples. "Don't worry your pretty head yet. If there's a way to come back with you that won't endanger you or anyone else, then I wish to be with you. You know that, don't you?"

"I do now," she exhaled in relief against the skin of his throat.

It seemed that no further words were necessary between them as the savior and her hero were finally able to rest. Though still in the Underworld, things were already better than they had been for a long, long time.


	2. Epilogue

_(Here after unfortunate delay is the epilogue to the post 5x14 healing in the Underworld fic I posted a week or so back. This one takes place in a couple years' time, and the whole Storybrooke group has returned safely from the Underworld here. I hope you enjoy – much fluffier with a lot less angst1)_

 _Hush Now (I'm Here to Dry Your Tears) ~ Epilogue_

 _Two Years Later…_

A child's plaintive wail breaks through the early morning quiet in the still-dark house by the sea. Though only a little past two in the morning, it is quite clear the unhappy infant does not intend to stand being ignored until her parents are more rested.

Across the hall from the nursery, a groggy, low groan issues from the overstuffed king-sized bed where the Savior of Storybrooke and her pirate sleep tangled together, still curled up around each other to keep away the nightmares and sense of being alone, even after nearly two years as husband and wife. They had been married almost as soon as they returned from the Underworld alive, and barely been apart for more than a few hours ever since. Emma Swan's pale, slender arm snakes from beneath the mound of covers and smacks blindly at the alarm clock on her nightstand, not yet coherent enough to understand the "little demon device", as Killian calls it, is not making the noise that has awakened her.

A husky, warm chuckle emanates from the man at her back. His wiry arms carefully pull her into him for a moment, nose nuzzling at the top of her spine. He holds her close before she pulls away to go to their young daughter, but as she does, he also moves to roll out from under the covers on his side of the bed.

 _Her husband_ – Emma still warms and thrills at the title in a way she would never have expected of herself – stops her forward motion with a gentle hand, pulling her back into the circle of his arms and urging her to relax again while tucking the covers back around her. "Easy, Lass," he murmurs lowly in her ear, sending little shivers skittering all along the surface of her skin, despite the blankets. His blunted arm comes to rest on the curve of her still-tender stomach. 'I'll go to her. You need your sleep. Tough as you pretend to be, you must still be hurting. Stay here. Rest."

As he slides out of bed as smoothly as possible, Killian notes with affection and loving concern that after a rather pained grumble, Emma rolls onto her back restlessly and then quickly falls back to sleep. Shaking his head, he lingers for one more backward glance, knowing that he loves this woman beyond all sense and sanity, and it only grows the longer they are together. Then the loud, impatient cry comes again, and he snaps back to his task and across the hall to their daughter's nursery.

Upon entering the buttercup yellow painted room, wide, inquisitive eyes as blue and captivating as his own immediately find and gaze up at him from the crib steadfastly, wrapping his heart into her chubby little fingers once more. The wails soften and calm into pitiable, soft snuffles as Captain Hook, former dread villain of the high seas, leans over the side of the crib and tenderly gathers his little girl into his arms. "What is it, little Love? Your Mum needs her rest, Darling… Papa is here though, aye? No need for tears."

Their little girl blinks up at him guilelessly, and Killian feels his heart actually stutter in his chest at her innocent beauty. With her stunning azure eyes and head already full of soft, inky-dark baby curls, most people say they see him in the child, but the parts of Emma he sees in her are what capture him every time he looks at his precious child: her dark, upsweeping eyelashes, her perfect little nose, and that chin which Emma inherited from her own mother – not to mention that he can already see his love's fire and spark in their little one as well.

Humming an old shanty Liam had often used ages ago with him, when they were crammed in a dark corner of the hold in a ship where they were little more than slaves, Killian walks over to the rocking chair placed before the big bay window looking out on the harbor, bouncing his daughter's small form gently in his arms as he does. When Killian had been hurt and cold, hungry and afraid, when he couldn't sleep for the pain and the nightmares, it was this tune which had comforted him, sung in his beloved brother's voice. Holding his daughter now, so far removed from that awful past, Killian feels a few stinging tears burn the corners of his eyes, both in gratitude for this little blessing he could never have imagined, and wistful pain that Liam can't be here to see the tune from their mother calming another's fear. Though he had been frightened of dropping her because of the single working hand, or scaring her with his stump, when she was first born, now he moves and holds her with ease, like second nature. Even as Morgan Ruth Jones – Killian feels his heart warm remembering the beaming, happy smile on Dave's face when he'd realized his first granddaughter carried his beloved mother's name – settles more comfortably into his hold, her little eyelids flutter and she drifts back to sleep, snuggled into her papa's warmth. Killian traces the bare, soft skin of his stump over her forehead, brushing her hair back from her face without fear.

A week ago, when the angel in his arms was being born, fear had felt like it just might overwhelm him. Soon, Morgan is sleeping once more, thumb making its way into her mouth and nose burrowing into the crook of his arm. Killian could return his daughter to her crib and go back to bed, but he finds himself reluctant to move, to break the perfect, tranquil moment here holding his little girl. It already seems like he must be dreaming.

Rocking slightly, bare feet pushing gently off the floor to guide the masterfully carved chair – a gift from August and Gepetto – up and down, Killian's mind drifts back to the evening his little girl had begun to make her appearance. It had begun with Emma's startlingly wide eyes turning to him in the middle of their supper, then the cry of alarm and abrupt way she had hunched over the dining room table, sending both himself and Henry into a flurry of worried motion and making fear clench in his gut. Between himself and his adopted son, they had gotten a sweating, panting, and clearly panicking Emma into the Bug and been on their way to the hospital, calling Snow and David, then Regina and Robin as they drove.

It had been a long, rough labor for his love. The whole family was camped out in the waiting room for support within a half hour of their own arrival, but Emma was fighting to bring Morgan into the world for the rest of that night and much of the next day.

By the time their baby was actually crowning and nearly out, Dr. Whale was looking decidedly concerned for his adult patient. The doctor hadn't said it in so many words, but Killian was adept at reading people and the pirate could see the worry in the other man's eyes. Though being a ship's captain is nothing like being a physician, Killian had seen enough injuries and lived long enough that even he knew Emma had lost a lot of blood. His brilliant fighting lass was weakening, and there was nothing he could do but stand at her side, let her nearly break his only good hand as she struggled to push over and over again, and murmur that she could do it, he'd yet to see her fail, as he kissed her brow in what he could only hope was supportive encouragement.

When her head had fallen limply on his shoulder, and she had begun to beg for it to be over, she couldn't do it, couldn't push anymore, Killian had known just how dire the situation was. He wanted to wring Whale's neck and demand he do something to spare his wife anymore pain, even while knowing such a reaction was futile. "You're almost there, Darling," he had whispered hopefully instead, praying for her not to give up.

"Killian, I'm serious," she'd responded in a jumbled, half-delirious state. "If I don't make it, then you have to…"

"Not a chance, Princess," he'd cut off there, not allowing any such thought even a bit of traction; frightened as he was for her, it was still unfathomable. And thankfully, it had come out right in the end. Their daughter was kept for her first two days, ensuring that her temperature regulated and her lungs were functioning properly, and Emma was held overnight for recovery and observation, but all of them had been remarkably well considering their newest little pirate had decided she could not wait any longer than the 37 week mark to steal out of the womb.

Still gazing down at the lovely face of his little Morgan, Killian once more lightly hums the tune he hopes to make as comfortingly familiar to her as it has always been for him. Not even fitfully stirring in her slumber now, it seems Morgan has settled back in for the next few hours at least. Eventually her father brings himself to stand, place her back in her crib, and make his way back to his own bedroom.

As he slides under the covers and curls around his wife protectively, her back tucked into his chest, his face buried in the silk of her golden hair and arms enveloping her in tender warmth, Emma makes a drowsy sort of purr and snuggles closer.

"M Sorry," she mumbles, her words sluggish but genuine. "Next time I'll go…"

"Honestly, Lass, don't fret," he soothes, voice purposefully low and rumbling in her ear. "You've done the work of a year in the last few days. I merely wish to let you heal and regain your strength."

"Not made of glass, Pirate," she returns with a bit more of her usual sass. "At least bring her to me next time. You're going to make her such a Daddy's girl I won't even stand a chance."

The vibrations of his chuckling response travel from his chest to her as well. "A fitting arrangement for a little lass and her doting papa," he quips back.

"Whatever you say, Jones," Emma concedes in affectionate exasperation, drifting easily back to sleep in his arms.

Killian merely listens to the gentle in and out of her breathing and counts his blessings yet again, feeling for once that everything is exactly as it should be.


End file.
